


the cafe across the street

by tminuseternity



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 18:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12018708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tminuseternity/pseuds/tminuseternity
Summary: It started the way all the best relationships start - with food.





	the cafe across the street

**Author's Note:**

> A little late and a tad short but it's done and that's the important thing. I was so happy when I saw the coffee shop au prompt for genkillweek bc it gave me the push I needed to finish this story.
> 
> Based on the characters from the show only. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy!

“You’ve been here every day since Tuesday.”

“So have you,” Brad replied, accepting his coffee from the barista.

It wasn’t by choice. The coffee machine they had at Recon Motorcycle Repair had taken its final breath and died Monday afternoon. It had survived countless repairs, the move to their new location across the lot from this coffee shop and a brief love affair with decaf; it didn’t owe them anything.

But now they needed a new one.

He laughed and Brad was ten seconds away from falling in love with the sound. It was easy to come back for coffee every day when the staff was so attractive.

“I work here,” the barista said. “What’s your excuse?”

“Our coffee machine broke,” Brad explained. He picked up some napkins and turned to leave.

“See you tomorrow!”

“Probably.”

.

“You’re from Recon,” the barista observed, looking at the grease stains on Brad’s shirt and hands.

“Yeah.”

“We brought you guys muffins when you first moved in and the only person who came to say thanks was Walt.”

If Brad thought long enough he could remember the box of muffins they received on their opening day but he never thought about the shop that had gifted them until last Monday. He hadn’t needed to. “Walt’s our receptionist,” he said.

The barista stared at him. “And?”

“He speaks for the company.”

Brad had never seen such an exaggerated eye roll in his life and likely never would again. The barista’s eyes looked like they were about to pop right out of his cute face.

Brad shrugged. “They were good.”

“Oh my god, get out.”

“Ray,” the other barista warned. He looked like he could bench press Ray’s entire weight and then some.

“But come back tomorrow,” Ray amended.

Brad knew he would.

.

“I heard you’re from Recon,” the man said, handing over his coffee. Brad had never seen him around before but he reinforced Brad’s theory that everyone who worked here was attractive. Maybe it was a requirement. “I considered recommending a good coffee maker but I don’t think I will.”

“That’s a shame. I could use some recommendations.”

“I know Walt said he wanted a Tassimo.” The man’s apron didn’t match the grey ones the baristas wore but instead depicted the armour of a Stormtrooper, an instant plus in Brad’s opinion.

Brad refrained from releasing a dramatic sigh. “The day I bring a Tassimo into my establishment is the day I light the damn place on fire.”

That earned him a small smile, enough to tease Brad into wanting to see the real deal. “I would have to say the same.”

.

“You should try iced coffee.”

“Ice doesn’t belong in coffee.”

“What are you, some sort of coffee snob? No wait, that’s Walt.”

Brad cracked a smile. Walt was particular about his coffee order, so particular that he never allowed Ray to make it anymore after insisting that Ray burned his espresso. Ray was, evidently, still bitter about it. “I know what I like.”

“Try something new, homes. Lots of people like iced coffee.”

“Iced coffee is to coffee what country music is to music—the shit at the bottom of the barrel.”

It was hard to tell if the outrage on Ray’s face was genuine or not. “How _dare_ you insult country music under this roof! No more coffee for you.”

Brad raised an eyebrow. “I’m a paying customer.”

Ray retaliated the next day by giving Brad’s change in nickels.

.

“How about Cuisinart?”

Brad was researching when he had spare time but the end of summer was the busiest time for Recon and the purchase of a new coffee maker had been put on the back burner, so to speak. Still, he asked about a brand whenever he saw the baker and his lips remained tightly sealed as promised.

The baker shrugged one shoulder. “Don’t you like the one we have?”

“The one you have is hurting my wallet.”

He slid Brad’s cup across the counter. “How unfortunate,” he said, not looking sorry at all.

.

Brad frowned at the patches of red covering the left side of Ray’s face. “What happened to you?”

“Why, you wanna kiss it better?”

Brad didn’t answer, just gave him a flat look.

Ray finished filling up Brad’s travel mug—he remembered to bring it today—and set the carafe on the counter. “The espresso machine is on the fritz. Fucking exploded all over me.”

“Language,” the other barista said. Brad had learned his name was Rudy when he had stopped by with Walt, who seemed to know everyone here.

“You’re okay, right?”

Ray leaned on the counter, resting his chin in his hand, and grinned. “You sure you don’t want to kiss it better?”

“Positive.”

.

“He’s fixing it,” Ray said from somewhere behind Brad, his tone sounding like the verbal equivalent of a shrug.

Brad looked over his shoulder to see the baker, who he still didn’t know the name of, standing next to Ray with a tray of iced cupcakes. He was wearing a _Harry Potter_ apron today.

“I’m just about done. Wouldn’t want you to lose your primary source of income.”

“What makes you think espresso is our primary source of income?” Even laced with a spark of challenge the baker’s voice was still the hottest thing he’d ever heard. Maybe even hotter as a result.

Brad turned back to the machine and started screwing on the panel. “This is a coffee shop. You need coffee don’t you?”

“Actually, this is a bakery,” he replied, and Ray snickered. “Did Ray promise you any sort of compensation?”

“No, and there would be no point. I’d spend it here anyway.” He finished reattaching the panel and gave the screwdriver—which was so small it looked like a child’s toy, but it got the job done—back to Ray.

“You just saved me a minor fortune,” the baker said, his expression earnest. “Have a cupcake. On the house.”

.

The sign on the storefront did, in fact, read: _Nate’s Bakery – Coffee and Gluten-free Goods._

.

Walt knocked and poked his head into Brad’s office. “Nate is here to see you.”

Brad frowned at the name. He didn’t know any Nate. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

When he entered the waiting area and saw the baker it clicked in his mind like puzzle pieces. “You named your bakery after yourself?”

“It was either that or the Pie that was Promised,” Nate answered.

“That’s a much better name,” Brad said, keeping his tone light enough to be teasing.

“Ray will be happy to know you agree. Can you fix oven timers?” he asked, cutting straight to business. “I brought a down payment.” He handed Brad a paper bag.

Brad looked inside to see chocolate chunk cookies. “I can take a look at it. I’ll drop by before four.”

“See you then.”

“He is so your type,” Walt commented from his desk after Nate left. “I can’t believe I just realized that.”

The smile fell off Brad’s face in favour of a glare. “Don’t you have work to do?”

Walt beamed, unaffected by the look. “I’m multitasking.”

.

“Okay, test it.”

Nate paused in his process of wiping down the kitchen island. “You’re done already?”

They were the only three left in the bakery, which was just about to close, and they had only been working for ten minutes. Ray was at the sink washing dishes while Nate cleaned the kitchen and Brad was behind the oven fixing a loose connection in the timer’s wiring.

“He’s an appliance wizard,” Ray said over his shoulder. He was in the perfect position for Brad to see the way he was swinging his hips to the music, and Brad couldn’t help but think that the voice warbling about constant craving on the radio was entirely applicable to his situation. “We should keep him around.”

Brad bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying something stupid. Something like _yeah, I’d like that_.

“I thought it would take longer,” Nate said, standing in front of the oven to test the timer. He absently licked his lips, which were stained red with cherry soda.

“That must be why you offered me a whole pie.”

“Yeah, bad idea, Nate.”

“Maybe. But I’m a man of my word.”

The timer rang loud and clear when the clock hit zero seconds, just as it was supposed to.

“Kiwi crème,” Brad requested, with a touch of smugness.

“I’ll make one for you tomorrow, I don’t have any left.” Nate looked up from the clock display, piercing Brad with those bright green eyes that never failed to take his breath away. “I guess we will have to keep you around.”

.

“Did you enjoy the pie?”

Poke looked between Brad and Nate. “What pie?”

“It was too good to share,” Brad answered, enjoying the smile that put on Nate’s face.

One day, Brad promised himself, he would make Nate laugh. Until that day he would have to settle for memorizing the curves of his smiles.

.

On Halloween the bakery was open later than usual but by the time Brad stopped by they had already run out of pumpkin pie.

“How about a spooky cookie?” Nate offered, gesturing to the display case. He was wearing his skeleton apron to go with his skull face paint, one of many Halloween aprons he had been rotating through since October first. “Or a pumpkin tart?”

“Yeah, George came in dressed as a clown and bought all of them,” Ray added, leaning across the counter with a mug of hot chocolate in his hands. He was dressed as a vampire, wearing a black cloak over his shoulders and makeup that made his skin white as flour and his brown eyes even more alluring. “I wonder if he’s throwing them at people.”

“At thirty bucks a pop I doubt it,” Brad said.

“He could be fucking them for all I care.”

Brad burst out laughing but Ray stared at his boss like he’d been replaced with an alien wearing his face. “Did you just make an _American Pie_ reference? I think I love you.”

The smile on Nate was wicked.

“I’ll take two tarts,” Brad decided.

.

“Nate.”

Nate looked up from his mug and gave Brad a smile that warmed up the whole of November. “Hey.”

“Why are you sitting out here?”

“Ray kicked me out. We’re having a random inspection,” he explained.

Brad sat on the bench next to him. “Is that normal?”

Nate hummed. “Two a year. One scheduled, one not.”

“And you’re nervous.”

“I was,” Nate said, meeting Brad’s eyes,” but not now.”

The bell on the bakery door rang before Brad could respond, not that he knew what to say. Ray came outside and held the door open for a man in business attire.

“The pass has been updated,” he said. “Everything looks good.”

Nate stood and shook his hand. “Thank you.” Once the inspector left Nate asked Ray, “Everything went okay?”

Ray stepped into his space and squeezed his arm through his jacket. They were barely a breath apart and for a moment they looked unexpectedly intimate. “We’re in business for another six months or so, you can relax now. Come on, let’s get some fresh coffee and sit with Brad for a bit.”

Nate looked at Brad. “Is that alright?”

Brad nodded. The opportunity to have them to himself for a little while was more he ever would have dared to hope for when he came over for coffee.

.

“What’s this?”

“Cookies,” Walt answered, placing a box printed with _NB_ on his desk. Ray’s handwriting scrawled across the top read:

_Happy Thanksgiving Recon! You guys fucking rock :)_

Brad picked it up and gave Walt a look when he felt how light it was.

“Um,” Walt said, wiping at his mouth.

“I pay your salary.”

“We left you three!”

Brad opened the box to see three coconut lime bars. They were his favourite but he didn’t think Nate had noticed.

“Poke figured those were for you.”

“Get out.”

“Yeah, okay.”

.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, shoot.”

“Why did you name your shop Recon?”

“We all served together as recon marines. We thought Recon Motorcycle Repair had a nice ring to it.”

Nate nodded. “I agree.”

They seemed to have taken Brad’s agreement to having coffee together in November as an open invitation to join Brad whenever he came in and Brad was more than pleased by this development. He started spending his breaks here and Ray responded by making Brad’s coffee in ceramic mugs without asking.

Brad stirred his café mocha and took a swig. It wasn’t normally a drink he would buy but every Friday Ray would hold his money hostage until he agreed to try something new.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“How many aprons do you even _own_?”

Nate laughed, only a short little chuckle but Brad wanted to bottle up the sound and keep it forever.

“It must be over a hundred by now,” he said, resting his chin in his hand as he considered the question. “Ray has given me one for every single occasion since we met in college. He gets pissed if I neglect one so I have to keep them on rotation.” There was fondness in his voice.

This was the first time Brad heard of them meeting in college. “How did you meet?” he asked, the curiosity clear in his voice.

“It’s a funny story. I—”

“Nate!” They both looked up at the call from across the shop.

“A story that will have to wait, I suppose,” he said, looking apologetic. He squeezed Brad’s hand and slid out of the booth. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah.”

.

“I found it in the basement,” Eric said as he plugged the coffee machine into the outlet. “My wife got a Keurig so she doesn’t need this one.”

“Does she know that?” Poke joked.

“Yeah, she let me take it.” He glanced at Brad. “You don’t look happy.”

“I’m happy,” Brad said, but he knew his face didn’t reflect his words.

“You took away his excuse to go over to Nate’s,” Poke told Eric, a sly grin on his face. Brad wondered if he really was that obvious. “He’s got a crush on one of the guys there.”

That wasn’t entirely accurate but Brad didn’t correct him. “Fuck off.”

.

“We got a coffee maker.”

Ray’s face fell, and Brad hated it. He hated that he hated it.

“What kind did you get?” Ray asked. He tried to hide his disappointment but it didn’t work, still leaking through the cracks of his false enthusiasm.

“We didn’t buy one. It’s Kocher’s old machine.”

“Brad,” Ray said, covering Brad’s hands around his cup of coffee. He sounded solemn, not like his usual bright self. “I thought we had something special. We have a good arrangement: you come here for coffee and I get to stare at your ass.” He cracked a weak smile when Brad laughed but his expression didn’t brighten any further. “It works for us, doesn’t it?”

Brad didn’t look away from Ray’s hands for a long moment. They were small on top of his and cool against his skin. The coldest part was his ring.

Somewhere in his heart Brad knew this wasn’t a question he could get wrong.

“I must have burnt my taste buds on that espresso you made me try last week,” he said, pulling his cup out from under Ray’s hands to take a sip. “The only coffee I can tolerate is yours.”

The smile that put on Ray’s face was worth the pain in his wallet and the pain in his chest.

.

Brad opened his office door to see Ray standing on the other side. Brad stood back to let him in but Ray shook his head.

“No, I can’t stay.” He bit his lip.

Brad frowned. “What’s wrong?” He’s never seen Ray nervous like this, with tapping fingers and anxious eyes that darted everywhere but Brad.

“Nothing, I just came to bring you this.” He gave Brad a small red gift bag, no doubt with a box of something delicious inside. “Happy Hanukkah or Christmas or whatever.”

“Ray—”

“I’m going to miss you,” he blurted, finally looking at Brad’s face. “We. We’re going to miss you. Me and Nate.”

“I’m not moving to another country,” Brad said, but even as the words came out he could tell it wasn’t going to ease Ray’s mind. “I’ll only be gone for three weeks.”

“I know, I know,” he said, running his fingers through his short hair, then, “Fuck it.” He dived in and hugged Brad, hands splayed across Brad’s back and his face pressed into Brad’s chest.

Brad only hesitated for a second, a single second of confusion, before he returned the embrace and squeezed Ray to him. He made the most of the moment, memorizing the feel of Ray in his arms and not even caring that any of the guys could walk by his office right now.

Ray pulled back but he didn’t let go. He was close enough that Brad could lean down and—

Ray snatched his hands back like he’d been burned and stepped back. “Don’t eat them all at once. See you in the new year.”

He left, and Brad stood in the doorway of his office for a long time after he did.

.

Brad visited his family for the holidays and despite the best of his intentions he let slip about what his mother had referred to as troubles of the heart.

Brad had scoffed and in return they gave him more wine so he’d talk. He only talked about Ray because if his mother found out he was falling for two people she would have a fit.

“ _Shit_.”

“What?” his sister asked.

“Nothing.”

He was falling in love with two people.

.

When Brad entered the bakery in January nothing appeared to have changed at all. It smelled as good as always, the stereo played quiet music from the corner like usual, and the menu hadn’t changed a bit.

And when Ray saw him he gave the same heart-stopping smile he always did.

.

Nate was at the door this time and when Brad stepped back to let him in he thought Nate might shake his head just like Ray. But he didn’t. He entered and allowed Brad to close the door but he didn’t sit down.

“I heard it was your birthday.”

“It might be. Who told you that?”

“A little bird who’s name rhymes with—”

“Salt?” Brad guessed, already contemplating the perfect revenge for Walt. His heart was in the right place but Brad did not appreciate the meddling in his personal life.

“Joke,” Nate finished, the corner of his mouth tugging up.

Scratch that. Brad did not need two meddling friends.

Nate held up a glass bowl with plastic wrap on top. “Lime crème brulee.”

“You know me so well.”

His eyes searched every inch of Brad’s face. “Not as well as I’d like to.” His expression was conflicted and he looked like he was about to move closer before he changed his mind.

“Happy Birthday,” he said, then left.

.

Brad put the bowl down on the counter—and no, he didn’t slam it—and looked between Nate and Ray. “What’s going on?”

Since Nate left his office yesterday he’d felt like the ground had crumbled away beneath his feet and everything he thought he knew was wrong.

Nate glanced at Ray then at Rudy.

“I’ll take care of this” Rudy said, nodding towards the short line. “Go sort your souls out.”

“Rudy, my man,” Ray said, giving his co-worker a fist bump.

They led Brad to the last booth in the row and slid into the seats.

Brad broke the silence first. “If you were waiting for the perfect time to tell me that you’re married you waited too long.”

Nate looked surprised but Ray just groaned, his eyes closing and his head falling back. “You knew?”

“Recon marine, remember?”

He only realized once Nate told him how they met but the signs were all there, he just had to put them together. Seeing the wedding band on a chain around Nate’s neck had helped. It took some introspection—and some booze—to sort it all out in his head but there was only one conclusion that made sense.

It was now or never.

“You want me, I want you both. What’s the problem?” Brad’s heart was racing. If he was wrong, he was fucked.

“You really do know,” Nate said in quiet amazement, and his words brought relief rushing through Brad’s veins.

“The only thing I don’t know is why you two have been acting weird.”

“We were nervous about telling you,” Nate said, honesty written all over his face and his eyes begging Brad to understand. “We didn’t know how you would react and you needed to know what you were getting into before anything happened.”

“Basically, we wanted to kiss the fuck out of you but you needed to know we’re a package deal,” Ray translated.

Brad laid his hands on the table, palms up, and they each took one. “I know,” he assured them, rubbing his thumbs across their knuckles. “So what now?” He was unsure of the proper protocol when integrating oneself into the relationship of a married couple. Seeing one person was difficult enough and he hadn’t done that in years.

“Now we wine you and dine you and maybe even f—”

“How about dinner tonight?” Nate interjected, giving his husband a look. “And we’ll see where things go from there.”

Brad nodded, a smile taking hold on his face. “I’d like that.”

.

“You see that, Walt?” Poke said. “That is the face of a man who’s having threesomes on a regular basis.”

Brad flipped him off.

.

The bakery was full on Valentine’s Day. Cookies and pies were flying off the shelves into the hands of couples and families alike and Poke lamented when the last double chocolate lava muffin he was going to buy for his wife disappeared from the pastry display.

“Just get her a slice of pie. Or a whole pie. Everyone loves pie.”

Poke gave him a dirty look. “That is not going to cut it, man. She needs something chocolate or I’ll be out in the dog house.”

When they reached the front of the line Ray was at the register. He looked exhausted but he still energy in him for one of those smiles Brad loved. “Hey, babe.”

Brad wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to Ray calling him that. He returned the smile. “Hey.” When he held out the money for his order Ray shook his head.

“Our boyfriend doesn’t pay on Valentine’s.”

“Favouritism,” Poke complained as Ray took his money.

“Yeah,” Ray said, shrugging.

They were just about to leave with their drinks when Ray said, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

He was tapping his lips.

The kiss was chaste, nothing more than a brief press of lips, but it sent warmth rushing through Brad. He didn’t care who was watching, didn’t care what anyone thought, and didn’t care about anything in the world besides the man in front of him.

And his husband.

“My turn,” Nate said. He’d just come out of the kitchen with a batch of cookies and he set them on the counter as he leaned over. His kiss was just as short and sweet and together the two of them were enough to get Brad through the day, enough to tide him over as he counted the hours until he would be with them again.

“Okay, go on,” Nate said, playfully shooing him away. “We’ve got a business to run and you’re distracting us.”

“See you tonight.”

Ray winked. “You bet.”

“I can’t believe it, dog,” Poke said as they walked back to Recon.

“What?”

“One boyfriend ain’t enough for the Iceman, he’s gotta have two.”

“They make me happy,” Brad said, a quiet admission he would have said to no one else. Even with all of his jokes and comments Brad knew that Poke cared.

“Yeah. I know.”


End file.
